


Little Lion

by IndigoInsane



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Asexual Relationship, Asexual!Sherlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoInsane/pseuds/IndigoInsane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John asks the vital question, "Why is there a toddler in our kitchen?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

As always John climbed up the stairs to 221B not knowing what to expect. Sherlock had run out the door that morning muttering about an arsonist and nuns. John's offer to help had been brushed aside so John had spent most of the day following up with patients and wishing his phone light up to show he had a text.

It didn't, not even to remind John of Lestrade's incompetence or demand takeout for dinner. John had even texted Sherlock a few times with no answer except one to tell John to stop bothering him. The itch on the back of John's neck only got worse when he reached the doorway to find an overjoyed Mrs. Hudson slipping out and beginning the climb down.

"Oh John, congratulations!" In her enthusiasm the older woman had to be grabbed by John to keep from teetering over the edge and he was caught in a surprisingly tight hug. "I'm so happy for the both of you. You don't mind if I come up everyday do you? Of course not, I'm and old woman with an empty nest; no one can watch the flat better. Now you should talk to Sherlock about his experiments. I've always worried about the windows blowing out, walls crumbling and doors being blown off their hinges worse than usual. But now," Mrs. Hudson continued on a similarly insane lecture even as she began stepping down the stairs two at a time. When she reached the bottom Mrs. Hudson gave John and enthusiastic wave, "Tell me if Sherlock changes his mind about the party."

She was gone before John could even start to ask what was going on, leaving him to cautiously open the door to their flat. If Mrs. Hudson was so happy nothing awful could have happened.

The living room reveled nothing to terrible besides a mess of blankets on the couch. There was also a steady banging noise coming from the kitchen that wasn't cause for concern. John breathed a sigh of relief and had just hung up his jacket when Sherlock yelled at him from the kitchen to join him. John started picking up the living room first, yelling back, "Mrs. Hudson was happy. What did you tell her?"

"That's she's allowed to visit daily. Why are you wasting your time with blankets?" The banging noise stopped for a few seconds then continued irregularly.

"You're not going to do it and I'd like to sit in front of the telly without my quilt thrown over it." The noise suddenly became much louder and annoying. "That isn't going to get me in the kitchen Sherlock."

Except it did, John dropped the hastily folded blankets on the floor and headed for the kitchen, noting that the sliding door was shut for once, intent on saving himself from a headache. He got two steps past the entryway before stopping.

There was a child in their kitchen. A brown haired, dark skinned girl about two sitting on a counter banging a spoon against a pot while Sherlock stood on the other side of the kitchen rummaging through the fridge. When she saw John the girl stopped for a moment to study him staring in shock and then resumed making her noise with the occasional babbling.

"Sherlock. Why is an infant in our flat?" John was already dreading some experiment or something worse. What was he going to tell Lestrade? 'Sorry, please don't get around to throwing Sherlock in prison this time because compared to all the other lawbreaking kidnapping a child can't be that bad.' Or would John have to call Mycroft? Actually, John was surprised the older Holmes wasn't already gliding through the doorway with the girl's parents.

While John was contemplating what a deathtrap their flat had suddenly turned into Sherlock was completely calm as he grabbed a pear and walked to the girl. Taking the pot and spoon to shove in a random cupboard he gave her the pear. He was actually smiling as the child gripped the fruit in both hands, hit herself in the nose a few times before properly feeding herself. "John, this is my daughter."

It took John nearly a minute to process that. Sherlock had made it quite clear he was asexual and uninterested in children which was fine with a previously one hundred percent heterosexual John. This brought some of the obvious questions, starting with the most important ones. "How old is she Sherlock? Where's the mother?" Their relationship may be unconventional but John did not expect Sherlock to go off fathering a child!

Sherlock looked at him in exasperation, "She's eighteen months and nine days. No idea where any biological connections are and I don't care in the least."

"That isn't going to get you very far Sherlock," John sat at the table, grateful that after months of heckling Sherlock kept it mostly free from his clutter. "Where did you get her and for God's sake Sherlock what is going on?" The moment's hesitance in Sherlock confirmed what John had suspected; he had not stopped to think about John asking these questions. "Sherlock we've talked about this. Whatever seems obvious to you might not be clear as day for me."

If anything what John said seemed to disturb rather than comfort Sherlock, "I got her from the orphanage of course. I saved them from an arsonist, it was the least the Mother Superior could do." Then leaning against the counter Sherlock put a hand on the child's head and looked slightly less sure of himself. "I saw her and knew. She's mine. Isn't it obvious?"

John returned his full attention to the girl. Satisfied with how much she had eaten the girl was squishing the pear in her hands and not paying an ounce of attention to anything else. "What's her name?"

"Nothing yet, nuns called her something so terrible I deleted it immediately."

That was a start, nothing made sense still but John kept asking. "We can't just call her Girl, Sherlock. And how legal is this? Where will she sleep?"

John learned paperwork would be sent next week. Girl (as she would be called until Sherlock found a proper name) of course would stay in the spare bedroom since John had moved into Sherlock's. Sherlock was also happy to tell him of Girl's apparent genius.

He was skeptical of that last bit as Girl dropped the pear in her lap and happily smeared pear juice on her face. "Did you consider this might be something we talk about? Or that I might not even want any children?"

"Nonsense. You like children." That didn't mean John wanted children and he suspected Sherlock phrased it that way on purpose. In truth John wasn't sure, he had been fine with dating Sherlock meaning it wasn't going to happen. Then Sherlock brought home a toddler and dumped everything on its side.

"Couldn't you have at least asked me first?"

Sherlock actually had the gall to look exasperated, "No John because I didn't have the time to waste. Girl is my daughter and I brought her home." To prove his point Sherlock tossed the pear over his shoulder near the sink and picked Girl up. "I doubt the abundantly obvious can be made any clearer but we can always try."

John didn't have the chance to protest before a sticky toddler was dropped in his lap. A very unhappy one based on the frowning and immediate attempts to grab Sherlock as he was backing away. "Nooooooooooooo no no no no."

"I'm going to get your room ready. Be patient with John. Understood?" Girl was so obviously displeased with John's existence they were both surprised when Sherlock left.

John watched as she stared at the entryway a moment, and then turned her full attention towards him. He took it as an opportunity to study her, seeing dark brown hair and light brown eyes on a dark-skinned little girl dressed in a plain white dress. Despite being covered in pear juice Girl looked healthy enough and certainly quite cute. Overall he couldn't see the connection between her and Sherlock.

Whatever observations she had made must have left Girl unsatisfied with John because she began climbing down regardless of the hard floor. With little choice John grabbed her and with no idea what to do stood up. Noticing she was much higher up Girl ceased struggling and pressed her pear covered self against John's chest, "Bleh."

"Right," was John really having difficulty speaking to a toddler? Of course he was, the only infant John had ever interacted with had been his sister and even then they had given each other a wide berth. "Let's get you cleaned up then." John carried Girl near the sink and set her down to fetch a rag and got it wet. First he cleaned his hands then looked down to see her looking impatient and holding her hands up. Maybe there was a bit of Sherlock in Girl.

Curious to see what would happen John gave her the damp rag. Girl mimicked what John had done then smeared it across her face a few times before dropping it and starting to walk. John followed as she circled the kitchen and went through the entryway to do the same in the living room. The door to the bathroom caught her attention except she was too short to reach the doorknob. Accepting of this Girl went back to the couch, climbed on and began jumping.

It was then that Sherlock arrived, sneaking up on John to hug him from behind. "She's brilliant isn't she?"

To be honest with himself John couldn't see anything that set her aside from other toddlers. But Sherlock obviously did and his attachment to her was extraordinary. Seeing only one course of action John sighed, "You know we'll have to go buy proper furniture tomorrow. And some clothing because she can't sleep in my old bed and wear the same dress forever."

"Of course. What do you think of Amelia?"

"What?"

"No, too many vowels. Josephine?" Sherlock let go of John in favor of sitting on the couch who quickly sat next to him. "Get over here and help me would you John." It was hardly a question and John was settling on the other side of Girl as Sherlock started asking her, "Josephine?" She gave no visible reaction aside from minor confusion.

This went on for several names, some suggested by John, until Girl became fascinated by one of Sherlock's scarves draped over the couch and they gave up. John ordered take-out making sure to ask for something a young toddler could eat while Sherlock tied the scarf in several loose knots and returned it to Girl for exploration. The food soon arrived with free noodles and congratulations for two of their best customers. Then it was brightly colored telly until Girl was put to bed in her pants. The last part of the night was repeated several times as she climbed out of bed and found them before being put back to bed again.

By the times she was actually asleep John was exhausted and Sherlock was tinkering with his phone. "I'm going to bed Sherlock."

"Busy. I'll join you later."

"I was going to say we're going to need to wake up early if we're going shopping tomorrow and that means sleep for me." Not to mention there was a bit too much on John's mind to guarantee that it wouldn't take him hours to fall asleep.

Sherlock's response was slow and still half focused on his phone, "I'll start the laundry then so Girl has something to wear." He tore his gaze away just long enough to look John in the eyes, "Goodnight John."

The door to their bedroom didn't get shut which turned out to be a minor miracle when Girl found them so she could loudly announce, "Potty!" John could only thank God Girl was already trained to alert her caregivers and that he could get her to the loo in time. Then it was general cleanliness while making sure Girl didn't eat soap. She did seem fascinated with John's razor and watching him shave, "Up!"

"You can't touch this, its sharp." Girl didn't understand the words but she knew John's tone.

"Up?" Her voice wavered as if any chance of her ever feeling joy depended on what John would say next. It was somewhat frightening.

"No," John knew she was familiar with that word and made sure his expression was very firm. "It's dangerous." He was not expecting Girl to start crying, leaving him to nick himself as he finished shaving and shoved the razor away so he could pick her up. "Sherlock? Are you awake yet?"

Either unsatisfied or having forgotten what upset her in the first place Girl kept crying a few moments and stopped just as suddenly. John decided it was time for Sherlock to do some of the parenting.

Stepping into the living room he nearly ran into Sherlock holding the white dress. "I'll bath her while you make breakfast." Girl was exchanged leaving John to go rummage through the fridge.

Surprisingly he found a non-expired or tampered with carton of eggs to scramble. Hearing the water running followed by loud splashing John tried not to worry, "Everything alright Sherlock?"

"Fine John. Put some salt in, the only thing worse than eggs are bland eggs." Dutifully John seasoned the eggs and poked them a bit with the spatula. Girl made several exited yells accompanied by more splashing.

The eggs cooked quickly and John had toast and coffee on the table when a freshly scrubbed Girl toddled in with a perfectly dry Sherlock. "We'll have to remember a sippy cup for her."

"Right, lack of fine motor skills. Sit down John I can just get her water so we don't have to re-clean her." John did, after lifting Girl on a chair piled with several of Sherlock's books and giving her a large spoon.

Breakfast was interesting. Girl was determined to use the spoon even on her toast. The small cup of water proved difficult to lift with both hands but some of it did end up being drank. Mostly she watched John and Sherlock eat, interrupting their conversation with random vowels and consonants mashed together.

It felt oddly normal. Mundane to the point where it was baffling and John had to remind himself to ask Sherlock something very important, "Does Mycroft know you've decided we should be parents?"

Sherlock flicked his fork dismissively which set Girl into a giggling fit, "I'm surprised he hasn't shoved himself though the door already. Must be away somewhere."

"Your mother?"

"That's for brother Mycroft to deal with." Done picking at his food Sherlock stood up and grabbed Girl, "Time to wash our hands while John does the dishes."

"Fine, but you're going to have to someday." John did clean up and took the opportunity to get dressed. That left calling Barts and begging for the day off. "Sherlock! Where's my phone, I have to call work." He could have sworn he left it on the dresser.

Sherlock's voice called back from the living room, "Already done. You have the week off and normal half-hearted social niceties. I also spoke with Mrs. Hudson; if we move the old furniture to 221 C we won't have to find a place to throw it out." John stepped out of the bedroom to find Sherlock sitting on the sofa with Girl trying to carefully move a brush through her very curly, thick hair. "Why is there so much hair? Mrs. Hudson!"

John had to assume Mrs. Hudson was hovering near the stairwell given how quickly she was pushing in the front door. "If it isn't the new fathers. Or is it father and dad? I never keep these things straight."

"Daddy and Da can be managed," well that was news to John. Not that it didn't make sense; it would be awkward to have his daughter calling him John.

Mrs. Hudson was even more delighted, "Lovely, are you two still looking for a name? Cynthia would be lovely. Or Julia, Juliana, Juliet…"

"No. Now would you do something about this?" Sherlock pointed to the tangled mess of hair with the brush.

"Of course Dear, pay attention and I'll show you boys what to do with a little girl's hair. Just let me fetch a few things," Mrs. Hudson then left with a wave.

Sherlock threw the brush aside, "We must stop at the hairdressers. Something short, very short. Sit down John it's going to be a while."

When he sat down Sherlock picked up Girl and moved her to face John. "Girl, this is Da."

"Da?"

"Yes. I'm Daddy." By the time Mrs. Hudson returned with several hair ties Girl was practicing pointing at Sherlock and John and naming them. Sherlock looked at John and immediately rolled his eyes, "Get a hold of yourself, it's just a name."

"Be quiet Sherlock. Thank you for helping us Mrs. Hudson." Without further prompting the woman grabbed Girl to sit in her lap in the armchair and began delicately brushing her wet hair.

"You didn't brush it before the bath did you?" It was fascinating to see how quickly Mrs. Hudson was able to tame Girl's hair. "No bother, just have to be careful don't we love? I'm thinking a couple of ponytails for such a pretty girl."

It barely took anytime for Girl's hair to be neatly combed and in two bunches on either side of her head that Girl felt hesitantly. Exited she pushed herself off the chair and stood in front of Sherlock and John, "Look!"

"Lovely. Thank you Mrs. Hudson, we're going shopping now." John followed Mrs. Hudson to the door while Sherlock helped Girl into her shoes. "Our flats a bit of a deathtrap for a child."

"That it is. Are you two thinking about having a little get-together? Nothing like a party, just a bit of a welcome celebration."

"No," Sherlock cut in, "Come on, the stores already been open an hour." Mrs. Hudson couldn't bring up the subject again as Sherlock strode downstairs with Girl in his arms and John following.

They used the taxi ride over to reject a few dozen more names, nearly getting into a row over Christine and Anna before being dropped off somewhere in Notting Hill. Sherlock was familiar with the area leaving barely anytime for John to follow with Girl while he strode into a neatly organized and modern (bare and white) store. All confidence Sherlock went to a shelf and began inspecting. John decided to let go of Girl, who immediately wandered off, and followed suit just as a saleswoman crept from nowhere to scare him half to death. "Can I help you?"

"We need everything," Sherlock replied.

Unruffled the woman kept smiling, "Expecting?"

"Mine!" Girl walked past a rack and into sight dragging a fuzzy yellow thing to Sherlock. "Mine." Satisfied that Sherlock had acknowledged her property Girl spotted something else, dragging the yellow thing behind her and continuing to yell.

"More like surprised," John offered.

It was as if she could smell the credit cards in Sherlock's wallet. "Let me show you our cribs."

They ended up with a scattering of things, including what turned out to be a yellow coat with a lion's tail and mane along the hood with button eyes Girl insisted on wearing despite the summer sun. The next store met more of Sherlock's requirements for clothes that barely fit in the taxi on the way home. Aside from a few necessities in the trunk the rest of the furniture would be delivered the next day.

Loaded down with bags while everything else waited in the lobby John assumed Sherlock would keep track of Girl and climbed up the stairs. Nudging the door open he didn't notice Sherlock stopping behind him until John dropped the bags on the sofa and looked for where Girl had wandered to.

Mycroft. Sitting on their recliner looking quite exasperated.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft waited a moment for Sherlock to walk in, managing to look elegant and disdainful while dumping shiny pink bags on the floor. Girl popped up among them staring warily at Mycroft. “This is my brother Mycroft. He is an idiot.”  
“Idit?” Girl repeated.  
“Really Sherlock? Do you have any idea what Mummy would say?” Everything in Mycroft seemed to be fighting off a rather fierce headache. The look he shot towards John seemed to be subtly screaming ‘why didn’t you already put a stop to this?’ To which he had no answer.  
Sherlock of course couldn’t feel any of his brother’s pain and was determined to make this as difficult as possible. “It certainly took you long enough to come meddling. Were you forced to walk?”  
Mycroft ignored Sherlock a while in favor of studying the toddler clutching Sherlock. “I flew in from Nanking the moment I heard.”  
Bothered by the attention Girl went to hide behind the couch where John was standing, prompting Sherlock to glare at his brother with more ferocity who only looked borderline frustrated. John picked Girl up with the hope of diffusing the situation. “Don’t worry. Mycroft’s nice enough when he isn’t using his ‘minor government position’ to lord over us.”  
“Please John, don’t enable Sherlock. He kidnapped a child from a convent and brought it home.” John had to admire how Mycroft seemed to have no issue believing what happened or to be surprised in the least. “I suggest you sit down for our friendly chat because I will be here a while.”  
John walked around to sit down on the couch with Girl on his lap who seemed unable to decide if she was afraid of Mycroft or fascinated by the buttons on his jacket. Sherlock stood standing, “Don’t do that John. He won’t leave.”  
“I’m tired Sherlock and Girl has been running around all day.” Besides, they both knew Mycroft was just as stubborn as Sherlock and he wouldn’t leave until he was satisfied or had enough information to bide his time with.  
Reluctantly Sherlock sat in the chair across from Mycroft who asked, “Girl?”  
“We’re still working on a name.” The conversation could have been incredibly less awkward without Sherlock set on being as hostile as possible John realized. No, never mind, Mycroft wasn’t exactly good for one’s nerves either. “The paperwork should arrive next week and we’ll have a name by then.”  
“You need to return her John. Please tell me you haven’t told my brother this is acceptable.” Mycroft seemed far from shocked but still annoyed by John’s acceptance of Sherlock’s actions.  
Of course Sherlock was quite pleased with John’s unwavering loyalty, “She’s my daughter, John sees it and if you interfere I will remind Mummy you won’t be having any children for her to smother.”  
“But she will agree that a sociopath should not raise a child.” John could clearly hear the water dripping in the sink with the silence that followed. Girl obviously couldn’t follow the conversation but was still squirming and clutching at John.  
When Sherlock spoke his voice was very quiet and angry. “Disempathic. It makes all the difference.” The term was more than vaguely familiar to John. Aside from a passing knowledge obtained from med school John had to admit in the beginning of his relationship with Sherlock having done some research before becoming too anxious to continue. Mycroft of course probably was more familiar with the diagnoses then even Sherlock. “Take Girl down to Mrs. Hudson.”  
John did not want to leave the brothers alone out of fear there would be a murder. However, he also had Girl to think of who was a sharp tone away from a screaming fit. Hoping that Mycroft would start looking a little less patronizingly reasonable John settled for moving downstairs as quickly as possible, interrupting Mrs. Hudson in the shower and returning to the flat in record time.  
Mycroft was already standing ready to leave while Sherlock sat glaring, “Have your way Sherlock.” He then turned to John with the same tired expression, “John, call me and I will have several families to look at.”  
“No need to worry about us; our landlady is already evaluating every family in the neighborhood for play dates.” It was a weak attempt at humor and they both knew it although John had the benefit of not caring.  
Mycroft was willing to ignore him and stroll out the door leaving John too hastily shut it. The footsteps on the stairs where fading when Sherlock let go of his self control and began storming about the room in a rage. “That blind, overreaching-,”  
“Smug megalomaniac,” John finished. “But we know that things with Girl are going to turn out fine.” He was actually starting to believe it as well. If he and Sherlock could end up living together and solving crime in less than a day and then start dating within six months they could find a daughter in a year. Especially if the sight of Girl was already putting a warm feeling in his chest.  
John listened attentively to Sherlock but was careful not to put any more fuel on the fire no matter how tempting. Mycroft was acting on his extensive knowledge of his younger brother and reacted in a much more typical fashion then John and Mrs. Hudson. That didn’t mean it took any less time for Sherlock to run out of things to say without falling back on the usual jabs.  
Tired out he dropped on the couch to lie down half on top of John. “He thinks I’m doing this in some pathetic attempt to please you.”  
“Which we both knew isn’t true,” John said with good humor.  
Sherlock was still serious and dark in tone, “Obviously. Would have chosen a boy with a passing resemblance towards you. Not a black girl who is bound to be you intellectual superior. I brought Girl home for myself because she’s mine.”  
John knew by now not to question it, Sherlock was possessive to the extreme. At least he genuinely seemed to also be fixated on Girl’s well being. He looked down to where a brooding Sherlock was now glaring at his sleeves. “Yes, I understand that so Mycroft can go loom over his cameras while we get ourselves settled.”  
Sherlock didn’t really perk up until after John had insisted on his helping move whatever they didn’t need to 221C and Girl was settled back in their flat. Under Mrs. Hudson’s care she had calmed down and was overjoyed when Sherlock carried her upstairs and let her put her hands in everything while John tried to cook dinner in peace. Well, re-heat actually because the only thing that could be found was leftover curry.  
Girl was fine though, staring at the microwave throughout dinner and then running over to press every button she could reach. The glowing numbers and their mysterious meaning in particular were fascinating. John ended up watching as Sherlock found various non-flammable things to heat and then poke and feel. When cautiously suggested marshmallows he knew it couldn’t technically end well for the microwave.  
It didn’t of course, but it was worth a sticky appliance to see Girl jump up and down pointing and yelling to make sure her parents saw it. John even joined Sherlock and Girl poking and prodding the fluffy remains. Of course that meant baths and showers for everyone because Girl was too exited not to spread it everywhere. Clean and exhausted John was happy when the rest of the evening included bad telly that Girl liked to yell at, while Sherlock periodically tried capturing her attention with a name.  
They were still calling her Girl when they went to bed and in the morning as she squeezed into their usual routine. Sherlock did not help when any of the furniture was delivered which was fine because Girl felt the urgent need to explore the stairs while several men were climbing up and down them with heavy boxes. He was available to dictate the exact placement and assemble of everything of course. John could only give a particularly disgruntled man a nod of sympathy before Sherlock was demanding the both of them move all the miniaturized furniture toddlers seemed to require yet again.  
So by mid-afternoon Girl had a room and everything she needed aside from a few toys John was sure would pile up soon. Girl was quite happy to roll and bounce on her incredibly colorful bed while John slumped in the corner chair he had insisted be comfortable against Sherlock and the store clerk’s objections. There was a bookshelf, rug, dresser, and rocking horse that had caught Girl’s attention. Actually, Sherlock had refused to buy anything Girl didn’t enthusiastically love meaning the room did not fit together in the least. But John was no decorator and if everyone else was happy with blue and white stripped bedding in the same space as neon polka dots then so was he.  
Suddenly Girl stopped, climbed off the bed and ran over to John, “Up!” When John picked her up she cuddled against him and closed her eyes.  
Right, it was about time for a nap anyways. John looked towards the open door but didn’t see Sherlock in the living room, “Girl and I are going to rest a while Sherlock so please, no burning down the kitchen.” No response but John had left him on the laptop muttering about child development.  
Years in medical school then in the army had taught John to sleep anywhere, anytime. Girl had spent the last two days napping in taxis. Therefore the both of them were comfortably asleep within minutes. It was nice being able to sleep in the middle of the day without Sherlock prodding him about wasting time. John actually woke up after a bit and saw Sherlock carrying Girl somewhere but dozed off again simply because he could.  
Lucky him, living with Sherlock meant he wasn’t to startled when small hands tugging on the collar of his shirt. There was Girl, standing on his knees and leaning over to yell now that he was awake, “Da!”  
“I’m awake. When did you wake up?”  
“Cama.”  
That certainly created some questions. Although John was alright leaving it a mystery for a while, especially with Girl so happy with staying where she was having John respond to her random gibberish and thrown together sentences.  
It was about when John started to think about dinner that Sherlock walked in with a camera already aimed and ready to take their picture with a quiet click. Girl was very excited, climbing off John to where her Daddy was kneeling down to let her inspect it. “Where did you get that?” John had only ever seen Sherlock use a phone for pictures.  
“Evidence. Elderly woman was convinced her son was using cameras to hypnotize her. Come and see.” Sherlock stopped fiddling with the buttons long enough for John to join them.  
Since kneeling would be a little awkward for the two adults they ended up crowded together on the rug. The first few pictures John saw were of him napping with Girl on the chair. Then Girl in the living room trying to crawl under the couch, Girl with her hair free playing with the hair ties followed by her sitting on Mrs. Hudson’s lap looking very unhappy as her hair was combed. Then there were random pictures of the traffic outside, (research Sherlock explained) and things ended with John and Girl back on the chair talking.  
“How long was I asleep?” John asked.  
“Slightly over two hours.” Sherlock let go of the camera, leaving it to Girl so she could begin walking around mashing buttons.  
“And Girl?”  
“Half an hour?” John’s sigh was ignored by Sherlock, as would any lecture on toddlers needing naps in order to stay manageable. He let it go, Girl could just fall asleep right after dinner. They were happy just watching her in silence. John especially when he saw how pleased Sherlock seemed. The last time he had smiled so fully someone had been robbed of several million dollars, blackmailed, and framed for murder before turning to Lestrade who called Sherlock.  
There was a flash from the camera and Girl giggled in delight and then jabbed the button repeatedly to take pictures of everything she wandered by. Eventually her parents recaptured Girl’s attention and she ran back to them, diving into Sherlock and dropping the camera near John, who picked it up for later, “Food!”  
“You want food?”  
Girl though very intensely before yelling that yes, she did want food. To impatient to wait she scrambled off Sherlock and hopefully towards the kitchen. Their empty kitchen.  
John prodded at Sherlock so he could stand up, “We need to go shopping, I’m surprised we haven’t already starved with only tea and eggs.”  
Sherlock looked disgusted as he sprang up next to John, “No. I don’t want Girl developing a taste for them and have us keep buying them.”  
“You know I like eggs,” and could not understand Sherlock’s intense dislike for them.  
“But that doesn’t explain why you keep buying them.” He was out of the room before John could point out how self-centered that was. For the best really, he would rather be in the kitchen watching Sherlock rummage through the fridge with Girl clinging to his leg then picking a fight over eggs. “Do we have bread?”  
John looked; what had been bread was long since lost to mould. “No. We don’t even have sausage or milk?”  
“No,” Sherlock shut the fridge and picked up Girl, “Shopping then.”  
“Why not order out?” It was already time to eat and buying groceries was already a boring chore at best. Taking Sherlock and a small child would only add chaos.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Far from suitable for a growing child,” the imitation of Mycroft’s voice was eerily close. It was seeable. Both their inboxes had been flooded with annoying texts from the older Holmes.  
“So his plan is to bother us over our lack of parenting skills?” John was a bit confused, it sounded too unobtrusive and clearly legal for Mycroft.  
“He thinks I’ll hate him less if he can come up with a valid reason to intervene.” Sherlock was clinging to Girl looking vaguely anxious, “Girl isn’t going anywhere.”  
“Because we’re going to feed her a proper home cooked meal instead of take-away every night.” John was not going to let Sherlock work himself into a mess if it only meant a trip a few blocks over. “Grocers it is then.”  
Girl was excited when they gathered near the door, insisting she get to wear her coat but refusing anything on her feet but socks. Well, except for a pair of old army boots John kept in a far off corner out of sentimentality. Girl refused to venture out until Sherlock picked her up and dropped her in them. John took several photos of Girl trying valiantly to walk.  
The distraction allowed her to forget her prejudice against shoes and wear them so they could go out onto the street and call a cab. Things are fine until halfway through when Girl remembered she was hungry and began loudly proclaiming it and crawling over them to bang on the windows.  
John wasn’t sure if he or the cabbie was happier when they finally crawled out in front of the small grocer favored for its closeness. He had to pick Girl up before she could run forward with a battle cry. The first thing they did was wrestle Girl into a small shopping cart, a basket would have been better since any major trip would have to wait until tomorrow but it was best that she wasn’t allowed to wander freely. Sherlock plucked things off the shelf seemingly at random while John pushed through the aisles.  
Girl was very happy. Until she realized that although she was looking at all the food she was not actually eating any of it. John could only feel increasingly unnerved while Girl began to look angrier with each interesting box she wasn’t allowed to tear apart and devour.  
John was also aware of the attention they were getting and Sherlock was obviously growing more annoyed by it every second. Something in John started to sink to the bottom of his gut. There was no way this trip wasn’t going to become a foray into hell.  
It started when a woman, a very kind, happy woman, John was sure, bombarded them while John was reaching for a carton of milk and Sherlock was sorting through apples. “Isn’t she cute! Oh, it’s so-”  
John turns around just in time to see the woman reaching a hand towards Girl, who was tired and hungry and obviously not feeling tolerant of strange people reaching for her. There wasn’t anything he could do to prevent it as one moment Girl was quietly simmering in rage and the next she was screaming and flailing madly. The woman jumped back in time for Sherlock to make some cutting remark that had John trying to apologize for them both.  
He could barely hear whatever the woman said over Girl’s screaming but John was glad when she fled and Sherlock settled for muttering to himself over following her. Then John was tasked with trying to calm Girl down while the other adults made a point of awkwardly ignoring them.  
It took a while, he suspects Girl settled down mostly because she’s too tired to keep going. Sherlock hovered over them and insisted on carrying her himself instead of putting her back in the cart. Fine, they have enough food for dinner and breakfast so John made the decision that it’s time to leave. One public outburst was enough for a lifetime, especially as he could still feel himself being judged as an inadequate parent.  
Except they still needed bread which by some extreme flaw in logic is on the furthest side of the store. From the corner of his eye John saw Sherlock put Girl down and pick up a magazine. He then heard the crinkle of several wrappers and turned to see her reaching at a candy display. Before Girl can get to any of it John scooped her up, “Not yet, we’re eating soon enough.”  
There’s confusion, devastation and then rage. Girl tried reaching for the candy again but was stopped by John walking to the other side of the aisle and tossing in a random loaf of bread. Sherlock is the one to reach for it when they’re passing it for the cashier.  
“What are you doing Sherlock?”  
“Getting the candy of course,” Of course he seemed completely unaware of why John would have issue with this.  
John was sure to turn so Girl can’t see any of the candy. “Why are you doing that? Put it back! She’ll be up all night, ruin her appetite, and get cavities.”  
Sherlock didn’t move, “She wants it and I fail to see how one bar of chocolate will accomplish any of that.”  
“It will. And we can’t buy her everything she wants.” By now whatever her parents were arguing over caught Girl’s attention and she twisted and strained herself just in time to see Sherlock reluctantly putting it back.  
In the time Sherlock grabbed the chocolate from the cart and placed it back on the shelf Girl identified it as her property, grew an incredibly deep emotional bond, and felt it being torn apart as it was removed from her. The results were not pleasant. Girl started with a small, surprised gasp and as John walked away with her she realized what she was leaving behind. When things were not immediately corrected Girl began struggling, “Mine! Want it!”  
Each syllable grew louder and less coherent and when they reached the cashier Girl was back to screaming as several familiar faces seemed to be silently asking, ‘Again?’  
Sherlock, concerned and hovering between John and the cashier pointing out that this never would have happened if John had agreed with him. “We’re not getting the candy Sherlock. Just help me get us out of here would you?” Girl could snack on something healthy and properly portioned once they paid for everything but for now John’s first priority was surviving the constant assault on his eardrums.  
Sherlock disappeared from his sight but at least he wasn’t hindering John paying the good humored cashier. Until one last item was tossed onto the conveyor. That damn chocolate bar.  
John had to buy it, Girl had seen it and if it was taken away again there would be no peace. She ate it in the taxi home perched on Sherlock’s lap while John resisted the urge to bludgeon his head against the window.  
He tossed the bags in the kitchen when they got back to their flat and stomped around to make himself some tea and cereal. Sherlock could cook for himself since it was doubtful Girl would eat anything. John heard footsteps on the stairs, a couple of doors shutting and then it was several minutes before Sherlock appeared in the doorway. “She’s sleeping.”  
“You mean she’s bouncing off the walls until the sugar wears off.” Girl was going to end up waking up at an ungodly hour starving and grouchy and then John would cook a dozen eggs six different ways.  
Sherlock actually seemed miffed by John’s annoyance. “Why are you so unhappy? Girl was unhappy and I fixed it.”  
“You did not fix the problem Sherlock you gave in.” Hadn’t Sherlock spent the day reading parenting guides and child development studies? Then again John hadn’t ever seen Sherlock deny himself anything he wanted.  
The taller man strode to the fridge and rummaged for an apple, “Giving my daughter what she wants is not giving in.”  
John got up and tossed his dishes in the sink, turning back to Sherlock and growled, “Our daughter Sherlock. And we can’t give her everything she wants.”  
“Why not?” Sherlock took a large bit out of his apple and seemed more preoccupied with studying the fruit then paying attention to John.  
John was at a loss for words. Sherlock’s attitude and outright ignorance had him scrambling for the proper words to explain what was wrong with catering to a little girl. This was also not a pattern he could see continuing for the next seventeen years. He took a deep breath, “We don’t want to reinforce the idea that throwing a fit will get Girl whatever she wants.”  
Sherlock seemed to agree with that, even nodding before completely missing the point. “Then we get it before Girl gets upset. She’s not even two John; Girl can’t understand why she can’t have something.”  
“And she never will!” John snapped. “Unless we teach her otherwise. What if she wants one of your experiments? Or my razor, or the chemicals under the sink?”  
“There’s a difference.”  
“Not for a toddler!” John hated this, he was the one yelling and looking like a madman while Sherlock was perfectly calm and completely wrong. “I’m going to bed Sherlock; we can talk in the morning.” He walked out over Sherlock’s protests and nursing the beginnings of a fierce headache.  
John spent hours tossing and turning while listening to the thumps and giggles coming from Girl’s room half angry and half relieved Sherlock didn’t immediately follow him. He very purposefully made a show of ignoring him when Sherlock slipped in the room and started undressing.  
The warm body pressed against his was slightly harder to ignore, especially with Sherlock whispering in his ear, “She’s actually asleep now.” His voice was hesitant, still scoping out John’s mood. Good. John was sick of being the unsure one. After a few tense minutes Sherlock gently traced nonsensical mathematic symbols on the back of John’s neck, a nervous habit he had been terribly embarrassed to explain, “She can’t have anything under the sink. Or sharp things until her fine motor skills have progressed properly.” They would have an argument about how fine those motor skills needed to be later John was sure. Most likely with Sherlock holding something sharp and on fire he had found under the sink but for the moment he was happy to let Sherlock continue, “Candy really isn’t the best option before bed either.”  
There was more poking and prodding before John gave in, turning around and holding Sherlock close. “Wait until morning and you’ll agree candy is never the best option.”  
“She still needs toys,” Sherlock murmured.  
John agreed, “So long as it doesn’t squeak, wail, bounce or in any other way assault my mental health she can have it.” Satisfied John wouldn’t have to play the part of dream-crusher he fell asleep in time to ignore Mycroft’s latest text asking how things at the grocers had turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! Finals are over so I finally had the free time to finish writing this after scrapping the second half and re-writing it completely.
> 
> (9/3/12) Holy crap, why didn't anyone tell me that on page five I switched to present tense for about a page and a half before meandering back? Well, I think I got most of it along with a couple more tweaks mostly towards the end.
> 
> (Shortly After) Ugh. Don't know if it's me or the archive failing but wanting space between paragraphs seems to be some sort of terrible sin.


End file.
